


if you were drowned at sea (i'd give you my lungs to help you breathe)

by brahe



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 5+1 Things, Aang (Avatar) Needs a Hug, Air Nomad Genocide (Avatar), Avatar State, Big Brother Sokka (Avatar), Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e19-20 The Siege of the North, Episode: s02e11 The Desert, Episode: s03e18-21 Sozin's Comet, Found Family, Gen, Group Hugs, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s01e03 The Southern Air Temple, Protective Sokka (Avatar), and sokka and aang's friendship during the show, big comfort, except its 3+1, i love my kids, look this is basically almost 4k of aang crying abt things and sokka giving him a hug, sokka uses pet names, sokka/yue mentioned, this is basically a love letter to sokka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27430300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brahe/pseuds/brahe
Summary: "I'm so sorry kiddo," Sokka murmurs, helpless. "I love you," he adds, the best he has to offer, and Aang's hands tighten in his tank."Love you too," Aang says, cracked as it is. He's exhausted, days and days of sleeplessness heaping onto his bones, everything too much for his shoulders to carry. He sags on a shaky exhale, slumping against Sokka under the weight of all of it, too wrung out for more tears."Sleep, Aang," Sokka tells him, pulling him along as he lays back into Appa's fur. "I got you."Or,3 times Sokka comforts Aang and 1 time they comfort each other
Relationships: Aang & Sokka (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66





	1. southern air temple

**Author's Note:**

> aye-hey first atla fic here we goooo
> 
> just watched the show for the first time like. a month ago and im have a Lot of emotions so here's me trying to channel them into this 
> 
> sokka is the Best at comfort and u can pry that headcanon from my cold dead hands. 
> 
> this mostly happened bc i listened to brother by kodaline too many times. title also from that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im adding like. 3-4 weeks between ep3 & 4

Aang wakes quietly, between one breath and the next, crying. His face is hot, cheeks tacky and eyes burning, and he curls himself smaller, squeezing his eyes closed. He can feel his tears tracking over his nose, sliding perpendicular down his face and into Appa's fur, collecting in a matted, salty patch. 

It's the same as it has been, lately. He dreams of his teachers, of his friends, of Gyatso, dreams of his bed and the little trinkets he picked up from travels; and then it's hot and red and burning, gone gone  _ gone,  _ leaves his mouth tasting like ash and his heart aching so much it feels like it'll just stop working. 

He chokes on a sob, curling tighter in on himself, one hand fisted in a little clump of Appa's fur–something,  _ anything  _ to keep him from drowning. 

"Aang?" 

He hears his name, hears it in a hundred voices, every single one of them gone,  _ gone _ –

"Hey, Aang, can you hear me?" 

He blinks and suddenly Sokka is there, a little blurry and much closer than he thought. He also thought he was  _ sleeping,  _ in the cots he and Katara use. 

"Sorry," Aang says, sniffling hard and rubbing at his cheeks. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you–" 

"Hey, hey, no, it's okay," Sokka says quickly, reaching a hand out and settling it tentatively on Aang's shoulder, as if he'd be pushed away. "It's okay." 

Aang's body deflates and his breath gets stuck on another sob, trying too hard to keep quiet. Sokka's face pulls into a frown, and he rubs lightly at Aang's shoulder. 

"Oh, kiddo," he says softly. "Can I help? Do you wanna talk about it?" 

The thought has barely passed through Aang's head before he's moving, feeling like it takes all of the strength he has left to pull himself up and shift until he's tipping into Sokka's space. 

"Woah, hey," Sokka says, catching Aang as he falls into his lap, head crashing into Sokka's chest. "Okay, okay," he murmurs as he gathers Aang properly into his arms, one hand settling on the back of Aang's neck. "What's going on, hm?" 

He rubs at Aang's back, slow, soothing motions, and Aang's voice is muffled and broken when he responds. "They're gone," he says, the words pulled out of his throat like knives. He tightens his hands in the front of Sokka's tank, presses his face harder against him as his sobs shake his whole body, so close together he can hardly breathe.

"They're gone, they're gone, they're all gone, gone, gone–" His voice breaks and he gives up, words too hard to get out between harsh breaths. Sokka's palm is wide and warm on his neck, everything about him  _ safe _ , and Aang lets go, lets himself be held together by someone else's hands, lets himself cry for everything he's lost so suddenly. 

"Alright, it's alright," Sokka murmurs, over and over, rocking a little. It's been a long time, but he remembers Katara, after their mother died and after their father left, nights and nights of holding her while she cried her heart out over things that left him feeling helpless; and now, here, with this impossible boy, muscle memory guides him, keeps Aang tucked into his arms, held to his heart as it aches for Aang's losses, a sadness so large Sokka can feel it acutely. 

"Breathe, kiddo," Sokka says, still rubbing a hand over Aang's back. Aang sucks in a breath, sharp and stuttering, and Sokka hums. "Good, that's good, keep going," he guides, keeping his voice steady, slow, and soft. 

A hiccup wracks Aang's body, and it hurts, pulls at muscles already sore from the heaves of sobs, but air is coming easier into his lungs as he follows the pattern of Sokka's breathing. 

He can feel his own pulse beating under his skin, feels the emptiness in his heart like a hole in his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut. 

"Why does it hurt so much?" he asks, voice high, cracking at the end, his tears big and slow and hot down his cheeks. 

Sokka closes his own eyes, Aang's weight heavy on his chest in more ways than one. He presses his lips to Aang's forehead, lets it linger as he rubs his thumb against the base of Aang's skull. 

"It hurts because it matters," he says, aware that he's lost a few tears, too. "Because it's important." 

"And it's  _ gone _ ," Aang says, pressing his face into Sokka's breastbone. It matters and it's important and it's all  _ gone,  _ and here, in this moment, he doesn't know how he could ever carry this weight and carry it every day, for the rest of his life. He thinks of home and he smells fire, tastes ash, and his heart feels like it's been torn from his chest. 

"I'm so sorry kiddo," Sokka murmurs, helpless. "I love you," he adds, the best he has to offer, and Aang's hands tighten in his tank. 

"Love you too," Aang says, cracked as it is. He's exhausted, days and days of sleeplessness heaping onto his bones, everything too much for his shoulders to carry. He sags on a shaky exhale, slumping against Sokka under the weight of all of it, too wrung out for more tears. 

"Sleep, Aang," Sokka tells him, pulling him along as he lays back into Appa's fur. He's warm, strong, his heartbeat a steady rhythm in Aang's ear, and he feels less alone, less adrift, held onto like this. He closes his eyes. 

"I got you," Sokka promises. 


	2. siege of the north

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ik it didn't happen like this but let's pretend it did

Aang comes back into his body with a groan, swaying on his feet under the immediate, overwhelming fatigue he feels. He blinks blearily at the ocean–wait, ocean?–and presses the heel of one hand into his forehead. Pieces are starting to come back, Roku and the Face Stealer and–

"Aang!" comes Katara's voice from somewhere behind him. "Aang!" 

He tries to turn around, though his muscles are weak and his knees feel like jelly, and all he really manages is to throw himself off balance. 

"Aang!" 

He registers Sokka's voice at the same time he feels Sokka's arms wrap around his chest, catching him as he crumbles, before he hits the ground. 

"Spirits, Aang," Katara exhales, sinking into the snow beside Sokka. She reaches out to curl a hand around Aang's ankle, her hand cool, grounding. 

Aang can feel himself shaking where he's wrapped in Sokka's arms, constant tremors wracking his whole body. He peers up at the siblings, flicking his gaze between their faces in the moonlight–

Moonlight. 

Everything comes rushing back in at once, too much too fast, and he's shaking so hard, hands clenched into fists in Sokka's parka. 

"Tui–" he gasps, choking on suddenly empty lungs, a sob pushing itself out against burning muscle. He feels the ghost of La's control of his body, feels her anger and her rage at the death of her counterpart, feels her power, the whole, raw power of the vast, vengeful ocean, feels her deep, deep devastation, and it's too much feeling for his little heart. 

Aang's sobbing, without warning, pressing his face into Sokka's chest, clutching at him hard enough that his knuckles have turned white, desperate for something to keep him tethered in, in the mortal world, in his own body. 

Sokka glances to Katara, who's watching with wide eyes.

"Hey," Sokka says, shifting off his knees and fully onto the ground, pulling Aang into his lap and holding Aang's head to his chest. "Hey, kiddo, it's okay, the Moon Spirit, she's back. She's okay." 

Aang's tattoos are glowing faintly; he's too weak to handle any kind of power like that right now, and Sokka will fight every Spirit in the world if he has to, to keep Aang safe. 

Sokka runs his hand over the back of Aang's head, holds him closer as he looks up to the moon. He could swear it looks different, now, more beautiful, more sad. 

Between one blink and the next his eyes are burning–he hasn't yet cried his tears for Yue, for himself, for them, but they come now, too hot as he squeezes his eyes closed. 

(The image of the moon is burned into the insides of his eyelids, anyway.) 

He doesn't hear Katara move, but he feels the warmth of her body as she sits against him. She settles one hand on Aang's back, his spine shuttering and shaking still, and her other against Sokka's cheek, turning his head towards her. Her eyes are soft and sad when he meets them, her face blurred along the bottom of his vision. 

"My boys," she sighs, so full of sorrow for the both of them. She pulls Sokka's head down to her shoulder, and the three of them lie there in the snow. 

Sokka pulls Aang along, shifting to take more of his weight, to hold him up out of the cold of the ice, and rubs over his back. 

"She's alright," he murmurs, looking back at the moon. "She's okay, she's alright," he repeats, and he's not sure if it's for Aang or for himself, the both of them carrying such sister griefs. 

"'m sorry," Aang gasps, barely enough air to voice the words, "sorry, I'm sorry–" He tightens his hands on Sokka's chest, pushing his forehead into Sokka's breastbone. Everything is too much–he's not powerful enough, this body isn't big enough for all the grief and rage a spirit is capable of, if even just the echoes of it; his mind isn't fast enough, isn't strong enough for all the knowledge he suddenly has, of things he shouldn't know. He pushes harder into Sokka's chest. The guilt he's feeling is his own. 

"'m sorry, Sokka, so sorry," Aang repeats, and Sokka stops the soft, hushing sound he's been making, stops his hand over the top of Aang's spine. He had though Aang was apologizing to the spirits, maybe, to Tui, but–

"Kiddo," Sokka says, looking down at the top of Aang's head, "what are you apologizing to me for?" 

"I wasn't fast enough," Aang says. Sokka lifts his head up off his chest, enough that he can see Aang's red, damp, downcast eyes. "I couldn't save her, I couldn't–" 

Sokka furrows his brows confused–until, suddenly, he isn't.

"Aang," Sokka says, and he sounds choked up but he can't help it. "Aang, how did you know that?" 

"I don't–I don't know," Aang says, and he's gasping again, gaze unfocused, shifting restlessly. "I don't know, I saw it, I–felt it, I can see her–see Yue, but she's Tui, but–" Aang cuts himself off, pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes as he makes a noise, high and distressed, rocking back and forth a little. There's too many thoughts in his head, too many feelings in his chest that he barely has room for his own. 

Sokka shifts his hands from Aang's face to his shoulders, sliding one down his back, pulling him down, holding him tight, his face in Sokka's neck. Aang's breath makes a damp, humid spot above Sokka's collarbone, and Sokka's tears just miss Aang's head as they fall off his cheeks. 

"Not your fault," Sokka tells him, murmured against Aang's temple. Aang sucks in a breath, shaking and damp, and Sokka hugs him closer. "Not your fault, kiddo," he repeats, and he'll say it over and over again until Aang believes it. 

Katara shifts under Sokka's head–he had forgotten she was there, under everything else–and she removes the tie from Sokka's hair and starts running her fingers through it, slow and gentle and mindful of the knots. She hums softly, a song Sokka recognizes, something their mother would sing them to sleep with what feels like a lifetime ago. 

He watches the moon as he listens, lets himself be soothed. He feels Aang's heartbeat slow under his palm, and then feels his body start to shiver with the cold, exhaustion, both. They'll have to get up, soon, get Aang into more clothes, but for now, Sokka tucks him better against his chest, opening one side of his parka to fold around Aang's right shoulder, and hums softly along with Katara as he rubs a hand over Aang's back and traces over and over with his eyes the dark spots of the moon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway tui and la are girlfriends and this whole chapter came from wondering what it would feel like to feel what an ancient spirit would after the murder of her gf and how intense that would be


	3. the desert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my draft: (sand people but atla)
> 
> taking more liberties with canon and doing what i want with it (: this show needs more hugs imo and, specially, more hugs from sokka

"Tell me where Appa is!" 

Aang's voice isn't his own–it's echoed by every Avatar before him, booming across the emptiness of the desert, and in this moment, a part of Sokka truly fears Aang's power, sees the fullness of what the Avatar really means. 

The wind picks up, swirling the sand around them in little tornadoes, whipping through the loose layers of Sokka's clothes. He can barely hear the response from the Si Wong people, only catches something about Ba Sing Se and the deep, genuine fear in their eyes. 

There's a storm growing around Aang, his little body quickly disappearing into a cloud of sand, a bright, otherworldly blue glow lighting it from the inside out. Sokka squints upwards; the sky is darkening, too, big, thick clouds rushing in low and fast. 

A rumbling builds out of nothing, rising quickly, and a sudden gust of wind nearly knocks him off his feet. He sees Katara and Toph tumble forward with the force of it, Katara reaching to keep Toph from falling onto the sand. The sound of crushing wood catches his attention, then, and he turns to find one of the sand-sailers split straight down the middle. 

Sokka moves towards Katara, waving his hands to get her attention. "Get Toph and get out of here!" he shouts at her, and she looks ready to protest, as usual. She's still got her hands on Toph's arms from where she helped the other girl up out of the sand moments before. The wind picks up more sand, stinging where it hits his exposed skin. 

"Just do it, _please_!"

Determination settles over Katara's face, pulling her eyebrows down, and Sokka watches her pull Toph after her, the two of them running past Aang's sandstorm, joining the crowd of Si Wong people rushing towards the sunset, away from the anger of the Avatar. 

There's a bubble growing around Aang, wind blowing so strong it's just quite visible, glowing faintly in the light of Aang's tattoos. Sokka faces him down, tugging up the side of his tunic to hold over his nose and shielding his eyes with his other hand. 

He makes his way towards Aang, moving slowly, wobbling on uneven ground and shaky knees, digging his feet into the sand with each step in an attempt to keep himself from falling. He can barely see, the closer he gets, sand thrown at him from every direction, eating at his skin and grinding between his teeth. 

There's a moment, one step forward into the edge of the bubble, and he swears he's about to be swept away in the wind–and then he's stumbling, tumbling forward into the sudden calm and silence of the inside. 

He's looking at Aang's back, he realizes, and Aang is floating, poised a few feet off the ground in a position Sokka recognizes as attack. The air might be unmoving in here, but it's so full of a roiling anger Sokka feels like he can taste it, and it's loud, the noise of the wind much more intense in the stillness inside. 

" _Aang_!" he yells, perhaps the loudest he ever has, throat raw from the strength of it. " ** _Aang_**!" 

He reaches up to Aang, wraps a hand around his arm; immediately, Aang turns to him, eyes glowing and dangerous, and Sokka steels his face, digs his feet deeper into the sand. He tugs on Aang's arm a little, experimentally, and then tugs harder when there's no resistance, pulling until Aang's back on the ground and stumbling into Sokka's chest. 

Sokka wraps him in a hug, squeezing him too tight to be comfortable, desperate to get through, to break the hold of the Avatar State–and then Aang goes suddenly limp against him, the wind disappearing and the sand settling, Sokka now keeping Aang from falling to the ground. The glow fades from his tattoos, and a moment later he's sobbing, clutching at Sokka's back, tears making a damp spot against Sokka's arm. 

"He's gone," Aang says, quiet and high and strained, interrupted by hiccuping breaths. "He's gone, he's gone, he's gone." 

His whole body shakes with the strength of his sobs, and Sokka feels his own heart break into pieces as the sound of it. 

"We'll get him back," Sokka promises, swears it, rubbing a hand over Aang's spin, up and down and up and down. "We'll get him back." 

"'s all my fault," Aang says, quiet, but then he's pushing off Sokka's chest, voice suddenly loud, anguished. "I'm supposed to protect him!" 

He sags back down just as quickly, hanging limp in Sokka's hold. "He's all I have left," he whispers, and Sokka, for a moment, wants to say _well, what about us!_ until he realizes what Aang really means, realizes that Appa is all that remains of Aang's people besides himself, the only thing keeping Aang from being utterly, completely alone and last. 

Sokka rubs a hand over Aang's spine, hums quietly and tries to understand what that must feel like and knows he never could. Aang hardly talks about it, any of it, but Sokka remembers that night after the air temple when Aang had cried for everyone and everything that was gone forever, with hardly more than stories left to remember. He's heard Aang's guilt in angry outbursts, usually kept tucked away, but always with him, following him around like a heavy, heavy shadow. 

"Not your fault, kiddo," Sokka tells him, for whatever good it will do, and shifts one hand so he's holding the back of Aang's head. "We'll get him back," he repeats, pressing his lips to the crown of Aang's head. "We'll get him." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> niké


	4. sozin's comet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh ho ho, me? projecting? more likely than you think

Aang watches the airship come in, shuddering and half on fire, and he helps guide it to the edge of the rock he's standing on, helps steady it on the wind when the plank extends from the deck. 

He sees Suki first, and then there's Sokka, leaning heavily against her, and Toph, pressed against Sokka's other side; and Aang feels like he could cry, filled to the brim with a relief strong enough to suck the air from his lungs at the sight of them. 

Aang takes a step toward them without really thinking about it, pushed forward by the giddy feeling that's swimming through his veins. He notices the moment Sokka sees him, watches the pain melt from his expression, replaced by a mirror of Aang's relief, such an intense joy that feels like it reaches for Aang, threads around him. 

"Aang!" he hears Sokka shout, and then Sokka's breaking free of Suki and Toph, hobbling forward much too fast. Aang rushes to him, catches him a few steps from the end of the airship plank.

Sokka collapses into Aang's hold, leg giving out and breathing hard, and Aang follows him down, folds himself next to Sokka's shoulder. Sokka grasps at him, gets his hands around Aang's arms, slides them up to his face, around the back of his neck. 

"Holy spirits," Sokka gasps, " _ Aang _ ." His hands settle on Aang's head, heels resting just behind his ears. He's looking at Aang like he's the best thing he's ever seen. 

"You're okay," Sokka murmurs, heartwrenched, amazed. "You're alive, you're okay." 

"Yeah," Aang agrees, and his voice is thick, his eyes hot. He nods, tightening the hand he has on Sokka's arm. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"Thank Tui," Sokka says, and then he's laughing, maybe crying–there's definitely tears on his cheeks, but there's a smile on his face, too. "You're okay, you're okay," he's repeating, murmuring, rubbing his thumbs at the sides of Aang's head. 

His shoulders sag, whole body leaning towards Aang as if some great weight has been suddenly lifted from him; and, Aang realizes, there  _ has _ . He's watched out for them, kept them all alive to get to this moment, and he  _ has _ . 

"You did it," Aang tells him, flicking his eyes between Sokka's. Sokka looks confused, like he doesn't realize he's the one who's gotten Aang  _ here _ . "You did it," Aang repeats, "you kept us safe." 

He watches understanding bloom across Sokka's face, watches as it turns into a sob, starting deep and shaking his whole torso. One of his hands leaves Aang to cover half his face, muffling his heaving breaths. 

Aang grabs at his shoulders, pulls him into a hug, holding the back of Sokka's head with one hand. He feels Sokka's tears fall warm and quick against his neck. 

"You did it," he repeats whispering quietly into the junction of his neck and his shoulder. "We're okay. We're all okay, you kept us alive." 

Sokka sobs again, chest heaving and shoulders shaking, his hands falling to Aang's back and tightening into fists in the fabric. 

"I love you," Sokka says, "I love you, I love you," repeating over and over, voice cracked through his tears. He loosens one hand from Aang's shirt to bring it to the back of his head, his fingers spreading out across the base, warm and calloused and familiar, and he holds Aang closer. 

Aang became his responsibility, his to protect, from nearly the moment they met; his wide smile and big, heavy heart under Sokka's watchful gaze as he followed Aang through danger and certain death again and again. 

Sokka never again wants to feel the terror that had gripped him, during this final fight, never again wants to know what it feels like to be certain you'll die, never again wants to know what it feels like to not know if anyone else you love has survived. 

But here, now– it's over. They've made it. 

"I love you, too," Aang says, and he's clinging to Sokka just as tightly, face tucked into Sokka's neck, and he's crying now, too. "Thank you, I love you." 

" _ Spirits _ , Aang," Sokka murmurs, pulling his head back enough to press his forehead against Aang's temple. He can feel his body shaking with the adrenaline crash and with all the emotions running under his skin, too much for his exhausted, overworked bones. "You did it. You did it." 

He meets Aang's eyes when Aang sits back enough that he can see them, holds his gaze steady. He brings his hands up to Aang's cheeks. 

"I'm so proud of you," he says, quietly and so full of love, bursting with pride, and Aang hiccups, breath caught between a laugh and a cry. "I'm  _ so  _ proud of you." 

Sokka's ready for it when Aang throws himself back at him, his whole weight behind this hug, and he holds him back just as tight. 

He catches Suki watching, gives her a wide, warm, watery smile, and reaches one hand for her. 

"Come on," he says, and turns to Toph, who's still standing tense, Suki's hand clenched between both of hers. "Come 'ere." 

Toph dives for him in an instant, sobbing in relief and fitting herself against Sokka and Aang, hands tight in both the clothes. Suki sits down gingerly, careful of her injuries, and lets her forehead fall against Sokka's back, one arm wrapping around his waist. 

Sokka basks in the warmth of their bodies, in the closeness of his family, and lets himself be proud–he kept them safe. 

"I love you," he says, to all of them, so full of love and relief and joy, filled to overflowing. 

They'll have to get up soon, get back to Katara and Zuko, figure out what to do now that this war is finally,  _ finally _ , suddenly over. 

But they can have this moment–he can have this moment. They did it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i love my kids
> 
> thanks for reading!


End file.
